Speed
by ropes and chains
Summary: Kirsten, the Decker specialist, is "involved" with the leader of the saints. Why aren't you already readin, playa?
1. Chapter 1

_Before anything else, i'd like to point out that the name of the specialist of the Deckers is actually Kirsten. look it up if you don't believe me, she was a unused homie. enjoy, fav, whatever the hell you people do with stories_

He patiently bides his time, dispatching wave after wave of Deckers almost effortlessly. His eyes peering over the top of his sunglasses, looking for any sign of her. A van smashed through the fence on his right, making it necessary for him to roll out of the way. Then there was the unmistakable swish of something flying towards him. One thought passed through his mind: _Bingo. _moving to the side just enough to avoid the hammer as it hit the ground next to him, he felt the electricity pulsing through him. Shaking off the effects of the shock he was face to face with Her. "You're dead, Saint." words so rude tumbling from her blue-hued lips, eliciting a smile from him. "Cheeky, Kirsten, but you'll have to catch me first." And his was in motion, diving through the air to land on his cycle. Gunning it down the empty street. In his mirror was the blue streak that signified her pursuit. Pulling up beside him with almost superhuman speed, Kirsten unloaded upon him with an SMG. In motion again, he dives, leaving the bike to torpedo down the street. Coming up from the ditch, He wipes blood from his face, and gestures towards her in challenge. Countering her swing with a sword picked up from one of the cyberpunks, the dance began. Weaving the blade effortlessly around himself as she attempts to counter and land attacks with her shock hammer. Finally they both are disarmed simultaneously, they both stand in contemplation for a minute, before Kirsten fires at him. He dives back, catching a round through the arm. He looks at her, amused, and steps onto the edge of the freeway. "Until next time." And he's gone, falling backwards off the side. There is no splat, instead there is a roar, and a VTOL rises up from below. He waves as he blasts past her, going at speeds even she can't follow. She stared at the fading light of the engines before dejectedly sheathing her hammer and skating away.

Later, as more of the city fell to the Saints, the encounters became few and far between. He stopped looking for the familiar blue streak, and instead focused on making red pools. Then Kinze gave him an assassination target that was right in the middle of Decker territory. Walking towards the target, he analyzed the guards, finding little problem he easily walked right through the midst of them. He spun around, unholstered his Shepherd, and placed a round right in the face of his target. Dashing forward he DDT'ed one guard, jumping up to fire at two more, he ran out of ammo and was forced to fight bare-handed. He flipped the last guard over his shoulder, snapping his neck. Having killed all the punks, he turned to leave. He met the business end of a hammer with his face. Raising his face from the dirt, he could make out the neon skates and torn stockings that told him all he needed to know. "Been a while, Kirsten." He felt the tip of the bladed end of her weapon poke him in the back. "So it has, Saint." He laughed. "I'm a little insulted you don't know my name yet." Kirsten pressed a button on her hammer, tasing him with no mercy, taking satisfaction in his grunt of pain. "I'm also a little insulted you didn't call, it's been like three months." He rasped, and she tased him again. " Into the rough stuff, are we?" Again she tased him. "Shut up and accept your death with what little honor you have." Kirsten raised her hammer high above her head, aiming to crush his skull. "That's a hurtful thing to say." He murmured, and Kirsten swung. The hammer dealt a huge smash against his skull, and Kirsten was sure he was dead. She sheathed her Hammer, and started to walk away. "You know what's funny about us Saints?" Came the disoriented voice from behind her. "We refuse to die that easy." He stood proudly, if a bit lopsidedly, in the middle of the street. "Run off Kirsten, the Cavalry's coming." He stumbled away, disappearing around a turn and left the bewildered Kirsten alone in the middle of the road.


	2. Chapter 2

_You know, do whatever it is you people do here. enjoy_

The surrender of Matt Miller to the Saints caused an uproar in the Decker community, and some of the members who saw what was going to happen left to join up with the Saints. The more honor-bound members continued to run the Deckers under the radar, and interfered constantly with the operations of the Saints. It was only after the defeat of Killbane at Murderbrawl and his subsequent mental breakdown that they realized just what a predicament they faced. After one of their underground meetings, a few were hanging out at the Broken Shillelagh. Most decided it would be safer to wear plain clothes instead of their neon infused ones. So they were able to sit in complete anonymity from any other gangs. Kirsten sat up at the bar, her hammer in a duffel bag next to her, just in case. She was well into her glass of whatever the hell she was drinking, When she heard Him right next to her ear. "Hey, Kirsten, I never thought to ask. But how do your skates work?" She clenched her fists tightly, turning to glare murderously at Him. "How the fuck do you keep finding me?" He snorted. "Blue hair, blue lipstick, you have your skates on. Kinda obvious." Kirsten reached for her duffel bag, when he snatched her arm. "Not today, blue blur." He smirked. "I'd hate to ruin this nice bar, so let's call a truce, just for tonight, what do ya say?" She yanked away from him, disgust evident in her expression. "Go to hell." He sat next to her. "Been there, done that." Taking a bottle from the bartender, he stared at her, which started to piss her off even more. "What?" She spat at him, he looked at her surprised. "You never answered my question."

A few hours and a few dozen drinks later, the hostility had died down significantly. They leaned heavily on the bar, their drunken laughs mixing with the strained music from the group of Deckers had left earlier, shooting dirty glances at the two, not that they noticed. "So I thought he's dead, right? Motherfucka got back up and was all like "This fight is far from over" so I emptied a clip into 'em." Kirsten listened intently to him talk about previous exploits. "I turned to leave, and I step right on the bastards machete. Picking it up I got a sudden surge of inspiration. I whacked his bloody 'ead off and threw it off the walkway, I'd like to see 'em come back from that, freaky Voodoo bastard" Kirsten nodded absentmindedly in mute agreement, her head lolling to the bartender slammed a hand upon the table. "Get outta here, we're closed." Kirsten flipped him off, sliding off her stool. Grabbing her duffel bag and slinging it over her shoulder, she staggered towards the door. Her process was impeded by the door, which seemed to require being sober enough to turn the handle. Thankfully her companion was just that sober and opened the door for her. Standing awkwardly outside, He broke the silence. "So….tomorrow you go back to trying to kill me I guess." She snorted. "First thing in the morning, If possible." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Going to sleep first?" "Yeah, what's it to ya?" She slurred. "Well then, allow me…" He drifted off, slowly leaning in. His lips touched hers, then he put his hands behind her head and deepened the kiss. He pulled back, grinning slyly. "...To kiss you goodnight." He saw her fist coming right before she slugged him right in the face. He spit blood, still grinning. "Worth it." Kirsten suddenly lunged forward, tackling him. He started to fight back before realizing that their lips were connected again, so he just went with it. Her tongue demanded access to his mouth,so he happily complied. The two of them wrestled for dominance, but suddenly she pulled back. "This changes nothing Saint, the second the sun rises I'll have your life." He pulled her back down. "Well, until then let's enjoy each others company, eh? he murmured before they resumed their activities with vigor.


	3. Chapter 3

_You know the drill_

Waking up to the sound of music lightly pounding through the walls, Kirsten took a minute to get her bearings. She rolled over, coming nose to nose with Him. "Fuck." She muttered under her breath, she was surprised when he responded sleepily. "Did not." He rolled away, falling off the bed. "Though we did set a new high score in tongue wrestling." He rose from the floor, orange hair disheveled. "So, when should I expect the first attempt on my life? because I was hoping to squeeze in a shower and breakfast before fighting for my life." He slid his infamous aviator shades on, while running a hand through his hair. "So can we swing that?" Kirsten just nodded, her head pounding with a dull ache. "Good, will you be staying?" He asked, rummaging through a overfilled dresser. "Wha?" He turned towards her. "I asked if you'd be staying, ya know,for breakfast?" Kirsten stared at him,shocked. "Hello, mortal enemies here." He looked over his shoulder. "Just trying to be sociable, the door's over there. Have a nice day."

Kirsten returned to the Deckers temporary base, and the second she entered a meeting was called. "Welcome esteemed colleagues. I have troubling news, It appears one of our own has associated with the Saints n00bs." He spat, as if to clear his mouth of a particularly nasty taste. "And had the gall to appear here today as if nothing was out of the ordinary." He glared accusingly down the table at Kirsten, who suddenly realized what was happening. "And everyone knows what happens to traitors." Kirsten rolled out of the way just as a hail of bullets tore towards her. _Oh shit _was the only thought going through her head as she managed to get out of the door. The sounds of the cars starting up roared from inside the garage, and Kirsten knew she was now just another enemy to the Syndicate. Which was one of the worst things that could happen to anyone In Steelport.


	4. Chapter 4

"There's a large concentration of Decker vehicles coming from Burns Hill, might wanna check it out , Boss." The perpetually monotone voice of the random informant rang loudly from the Phone on his dashboard, and with it came the feeling of unease that he hadn't felt in years. Smashing the brakes of his Bootlegger , he made a highly illegal u-turn and tore off towards the Nuclear district. On the way he listened to several more calls, all of which expressing surprise and disbelief at the sudden appearance of the Deckers. Turning the corner he finally saw the neon blue vehicles all in a group, and in the middle of them all sat a familiar blue haired girl, who was struggling to take them on. He reached for his phone, hitting all the speed dial buttons at once. "Everyone, get your arses in gear, that is a direct order." And in seconds several purple cars surrounded him. "Alright then, CHARGE."

Kirsten was starting to falter, and could feel exhaustion setting in. The sound of loud classical music came from up the hill, _**Flight of the Valkyries**_ to be exact, and a huge force of purple cars came down the hill like a tsunami. They utilized their element of surprise to smash through the first wave of Decker vehicles, but the other waves soon caught on and opened fire. During all this Kirsten tried to find somewhere to hide, but every time she moved she was met by either a Decker or a Saint. The sound of loud yells and meaty thumps alerted her to the car barrelling through the blue clad gang members, it screeched to a stop next to her. "Get in the fuckin car if you wanna live." Leaning out he put a cone of buckshot straight into the face of an approaching Decker. Kirsten quickly weighed her options and decided that she'd rather have a port in this storm. she flung open the door, scrambling into the seat frantically, and was slammed against the leather as he mashed the gas. "What the bloody 'ells goin on 'ere?" He bellowed as he whipped around, the door slamming due to g-force. Kirsten righted herself , yanking a seat belt down. "The Deckers think something happened last night, and they turned on me when i came in." she looked over at him as he tossed a flash-bang out the window. "Betrayal is common for men with no conscience." He muttered, reaching over to hit the phone. "Retreat, i'm about to bring the big bang." several confirmations and signoffs echoed from the speaker as he shot through the warzone, he screeched to a halt about a hundred feet away. "Would you mind handing me the briefcase right there?" Kirsten handed it to him, her mind realizing that her betrayal would be actual as she did. He stepped out of the car, dropping to one knee as he open the case, revealing a radar image of the area, he typed in a few things, then slammed it shut. A whistle came from the heavens, and he slid through the window, gunning the engine right as the missile hit. The Deckers were obliterated, and the shockwave from the explosion washed over the car as it sped away. Kirsten looked over at Him as they went, and saw an expression of grim satisfaction flash across it. "Revenge proves its own executioner."He said as she huddled down further in her seat, feeling just a little frightened. Frightened at the brutality of the attack, frightened by the coolness of his demeanor as he executed it

And frightened by the fact that she enjoyed it.


	5. Chapter 5

Standing in the elevator next to Him, crappy elevator music playing, it was all very strange. The doors opened, revealing the interior of the Saints Hq. None of the assorted Saints seemed to notice Kirsten, and if they did they kept their mouths shut. Kirsten awkwardly followed Him upstairs to the bedroom, trying to maintain a low profile as they weaved through groups of purple-clad gangbangers. After entering, He closed the door, then leaned against it while staring at Kirsten. "So, it would appear you're not on good terms with your mates right now, eh?" He remarked dryly, running a gloved hand through his hair. "It appears that way." He chuckled at her response. "Yeah, your worst enemies are usually your former friends. I know that from experience, I killed that bastard though." He removed his aviators, his neon green eyes studying her intently. "You look a mess, you know that?" Kirsten looked down at herself, noticing for the first time one of the lines on her suit was busted and leaking bright blue fluid all over her clothes. Besides that there were rips, burnt spots, and random peoples blood staining her outfit. "I guess I do, imagine that" She responded, trying to wipe some of her clothes clean and failing. "You've also ruined my peaceful night, I was going to have a nice nap before you went and almost got yourself killed." He joked, causing Kirsten to roll her eyes. "Whoop Tee-doo, That's just too bad now isn't it?" She kept trying to wipe the damned blue shit off her outfit. "If you'd like to remove that and stop screwing up my shag carpeting, you're welcome to the stuff in the dresser." He said, gesturing to the overfilled piece of furniture. Kirsten fixed him with a look that practically screamed: what the hell? "What? My clothes are stylish too." He muttered with a fake pout, his eyes flashing with amusement. Kirsten eyed him warily, slowly moving to the dresser to search through it. He left the room, seemingly to leave her some modesty.

His cohorts gathered in the living area, their curiosity mixing with the general high that came after any victory. He stood above them with the regality of a king surveying his domain, a fact that seemed ironic considering his heritage, and the Saints below knew better than to disturb him. He noted a sense of pure smugness among the members of his little band of misfits, more than likely an effect of managing to destroy a large number of the stragglers of the Decker's group. He heard the door open behind him, and he turned to meet her. She walked out cautiously, looking much like a deer in headlights. She had replaced her ruined clothes with a simple jean and tee combo, both of which were too big for her. She was holding her skates, leaving her feet bare. Her blue hair contrasted sharply with the white tee that hung precariously off one shoulder. "I like the new look, it's very….casual." He remarked, in response Kirsten yanked the edge of the shirt back over her shoulder in a huff. "What, can't I be nice?" He joked. "I don't feel comfortable being here as it is, much less in someone else's clothes." Kirsten muttered darkly, her eyes darting away. "Understandable." He responded, crossing his moderately inked arms. "But it's better being here than being out there." Kirsten nodded after a few seconds of silence. "That's true, I guess." "You're damn right it is, due to your unfortunate misunderstanding with your old crew, you've got a target painted on your back." He said. "I hate to tell you this, but you're now an enemy of a large organized crime family, and a war's coming soon." He paused, watching her shrink into herself. "I tell you this not to frighten or intimidate you, but to remind you where you stand currently." She leaned against the wall, her already pale face growing several shades more white. "Kirsten, you're in hell now. And when you're in hell, only two people can help you out: The devil or the Saints." He extended his hand towards her. " Like it or not, we're your only chance, it's up to you if you'll accept it or not."

He sensed the shot a second before it tore through the Saint walking past him. He rolled behind the banister, peering around it to locate the sniper. The other Saints dived into defensive positions, firing their weapons in returning fire. "You stay here." he muttered to Kirsten before diving over the railing to the second floor, landing behind the statue. "What the hell's goin on?" he roared over the gunfire. "Luchadores, sir, Big wave coming straight down street." shouted one Saint back, flicking her blonde hair out of the way. "That's outstanding." He responded sarcastically "Ok, one group stay up here and get the high ground, the rest of you get down to the street." He waited until the elevator full of his comrades started down before gesturing to the ones still with him. "Six of you watch for snipers, the rest of you cover us as best as possible." He reached into a closet under the stairs, pulling out a woodsman. "C'mon my old pal Chuck, let's go kick some ass." He ran across the patio, leaping off the helipad with a crazed grin.

If the Luchadores were surprised by the man landing in the middle of them with a chainsaw, they hid it very well. He spun and slashed in some macabre sort of dance, literally cutting them down with ease. His trusty saw , aka Chuck, chewed through the masked warriors greedily with a seemingly insatiable appetite for bloodlust. The unmistakable sound of one of those infuriating GL-20's popping off grenades cut through the mixed sounds of the fight. He saw the grenades hurtling towards him and winced. "Ah shit." Before the grenades exploded however, a familiar Saint in a white suit smashed them in midair with a bat, sending them flying back towards the crowd. "Sorry I'm late, boss, finishing up my record." Said Pierce as he smashed a luchadores head with his bat. "You've got timing, I'll admit that. Is anyone else coming, Pierce?" "Just some backup, I can't reach any of the others." One luchadore lunged at Pierce, but was met with the business end of Chuck. The sound of cars being smashed came from down the street, and an heavily armoured brute charged at the duo.

"Ah...Bollocks."


	6. Chapter 6

The brute tossed a Bulldog at them, which smashed into them hard. Hill came up in a dazed confusion. "Bloody hell, Pierce you alright?" in response he got a groan. "Great, where the fuck is Chuck?" He drew his Gravediggger from it's holster, leveling it at the Brute. "Smile you sonuva bitch." He fired into the brutes massive form, which had little effect on the imposing monster as it strode forward. It crushed one Saints head as she run past, never slowing in its advance. Hill thumbed more shells into his shotgun, blasting the brute in panic. In response the brute took a swing at him, which he dodged by rolling under the giant's legs. He popped up behind it, but the behemoth spun around with surprising speed, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him in the air. "Agh…..sh..it." As He struggled to escape the iron grip around his windpipe, feeling several cheap shots from raining upon his head. The brute drew back one last time with a meaty fist, aiming to kill him with this one. "Hey, asshole." The brute turned in confusion, and Kirsten thrust Chuck through It's face. "Made you look."

The giant teetered for a moment, before falling backwards, dropping Hill as it fell. Kirsten revved Chuck threateningly at the crowd of Luchadores moving towards them. "Plenty more to go round, wankers." She took a swing at one that got too close, ripping into his chest and killing him instantly. "C'mon, give me a reason." The others looked around uneasily, before scattering and running to their vehicles and tearing out. "You fucking clunges, come back here and fight." She yelled at their retreating tail lights, waving Chuck menacingly for empathis. "I don't think they want to fuck with you, love." Kirsten turned to Hill as he stood up, rubbing his throat. "Of course, I doubt after that little display that anyone would." He holstered his shotgun, wiping away the faint trickle of blood from his nose. "You're dangerous as hell with that thing." Kirsten held up Chuck, smirking. "It's a bloody chainsaw, kinda hard not to be dangerous with it." She remarked. "It's a heavy son of a bitch, though." "No shit." HIll responded back, leaning over Pierce. "Up you get now, thatta boy." Pierce leaned dazed against the wall, running a hand across his face. "Big mothafucka almost messed up my looks."

Back in the Penthouse, the remaining Saints members gathered in the living area. The remaining lieutenants had shown up finally, much too late to be of any help. Hill again stood above them, this time joined by Kirsten, and watched them. "It's getting serious now." He murmured softly, running a hand through his hair tiredly. "Which means we need to get serious too." He straightened up. "OY!" He shouted. Instantly all the Saints turned to him, looking up eagerly. "Alright, Saints, I know I've given a speech already, but this one is a necessary evil, so listen up." The Saints below were so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

"Killbane's got balls to send boys straight to us, which means he's more than likely grasping at straws now. We need to act now and sweep his whole organization off the face of the Earth. I'm talking a brawl to end 'em all, a solid FUCK YOU to the Syndicate. And another one to those Stag Gits. Now, doesn't that sound like one hell of a fun party? It's our time again, let's kick this shit into high gear."

The room erupted in loud cheers, the large majority of the gathered gang throwing their fists up. Hill smiled down at them proudly before turning away. He took all of three steps before falling to the floor in an unconscious heap.


End file.
